


blue days (from now on)

by Mildredo



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: 3x23, Angst, F/M, greg and larry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6616891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildredo/pseuds/Mildredo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>separation is hard. really hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blue days (from now on)

Jake dreams of Amy; of swirling dark hair and cinnamon lattes and gun-calloused fingers rubbed clean with aloe-scented gel. He buys the hand soap she keeps in her bathroom and the same laundry detergent she uses just so he has something, some piece of her with him. Everything fell apart so fast. They had a week together after Amy came back from Texas, just a handful of days and they were still working on the case, everybody was happy to be on the final stretch, on the way out of the operation. And now.

Now he's in Florida, and he's Larry, and the only person he has who understands is his neighbor. People in the street think there's something going on between them, some kind of secret romantic trysts happening when they visit with each other late at night, when they sit together at the neighborhood association meetings. They're leaning into it; Holt was reticent at first but going along with it was the only way.

Theirs is an exceptional case. They don't have contact but they have a connection. An agent, thoroughly vetted and highly supervised, comes in disguise as a lawyer every week or so to give an update on the operation. Larry is going through a messy divorce, they explain to anyone who asks, and as his _close personal friend_ Greg is there to give moral support. Figgis' organization runs deep, deeper than they could've anticipated, and his men are loyal. It's likely that he has connections across the country, that they may not even be able to stay in Florida. At least they have a getaway plan: if they're relocated, Greg and Larry will finally make their relationship public to the neighbors and run away to… to wherever. Nowhere's going to be safe for long if Figgis is as connected as he seems.

Jake's rearranging the dresser in his lounge when Holt comes over. It's kind of an Amy shrine, though only someone who knew her would know that. It holds a collection of little figurines, antique doilies, scented candles. He's holding his favorite figurine – a tiny police officer with a smile that reminds him of Amy, except the figurine is also a bear.

“I miss her,” Jake says once the door is closed and locked. Jake turns to Holt and he nods. He gets it. There's a battered copy of Beowulf on his coffee table. It's there for the same reason. Jake brushes a few specks of dust off the police bear's hat and sets it down. He sniffles, ducks his head, and he's ready to clear his throat and blame the dust but Holt just hugs him. In front of a lamp, casting a shadow on the curtains covering the window, and anybody who sees will add it to the mounting pile of evidence in favor of the imagined affair.

Everything is so, so weird. Everything has fallen apart and knowing that there's a team in New York spearheading the efforts to put it all back together isn't all that comforting.

Having a friend, however, is.

* * *

Amy works all day, refusing to stop. She eats vending machine food at her desk and stays later than anyone. It's a distraction. She needs to get Jake and Holt back and she'll work herself into the ground if she has to.

At night, she lays awake, feeling her stomach churn and gurgle. She's exhausted but she can't sleep, and nothing seems to settle her stomach. She could try eating a vegetable once in a while, but chips and soda are so much easier when she's hyperfocused on work. She hugs a pillow tight to her chest and tries to ride out a fresh wave of nausea; she's sick a lot since Jake went away. She thinks it's grief, and the terrible diet isn't helping matters, but everything will be better when Figgis is defeated and they're back.

The nausea doesn't let up, and eventually she checks her calendar and does the math six, seven times. A shoebox full of tests confirm it. She walks into work the next morning, dazed and so very tired, and heads straight for the office – Terry's office, as acting captain of the precinct, but it still exudes Holt. His rainbow of binders. His medal of valor.

The door is barely closed before Amy is in a heap on the couch, clutching at the new swell of her stomach that isn't solely down to too many potato chips and not enough celery. She's sobbing and Terry knows – he just _knows_. He sits beside her and lets her rest her head in his lap while she cries wordlessly, he strokes her hair until she's calm enough to breathe steadily, to sit up and gulp back her tears. She keeps her hands over her stomach, protecting it.

“I'm – the week we had together. The week in the middle of all this. We got one week to be Amy and Jake and it all… it's...”

Terry puts a strong arm around Amy's shoulder and she leans into him, wiping fresh tears from her cheeks.

“You've got a whole load of support here, you know that?” he says, and his voice is shaking. “We're all gonna be here for you, and we're all gonna work our asses off to get this over with. But you have to start taking it easy. It's not going to do _any_ of you any good if you're exhausted and stressed out all the time.”

Amy nods against Terry's collarbone. Her favorite work pants are getting tight around the waist and she can see Jake's face so clearly in her mind, so in awe.

“I don't want my baby to grow up without a dad,” she whispers, and Terry hugs her tighter.

Everything is so, so weird. This isn't how it was supposed to go down. They were going to move in together. They'd probably be engaged by the end of the year, married by the end of next.

This wasn't in the plan. None of this was in the plan.


End file.
